Read The Price of Desire Online
Authors: Leda Swann
Tags: #Fiction, #Erotica, #General, #Romance, #Historical
The Price of Desire (3 page)
“Then why take this foolish road?” he entreated her, all honeyed warmth and gentle persuasion once more. “Be the woman that I know you are inside. Release me from my promise. It will cost you nothing and it will mean everything to me.”
“You are asking me, a pauper, to give up everything I have left.” Her soul felt like flint. There was not the slightest shred of mercy left in her. “You are asking me to give up my self-respect. I cannot do that. You should not ask it of me.”
“I can make your life easier for you, or I can make it infinitely harder. The choice is yours.”
“I do not fear your threats. They mean nothing to me.”
He strode up and down along the balcony, his booted feet striking the stone flags forcefully. “You will live to regret your decision.”
She would regret it more if she threw away her self-respect and became his mistress. “I do not care.”
At her angry retort, his strides slowed. “You are overwrought,” he said, coming up behind her and putting his arms around her. His voice was low and gentle, as if she were a horse he needed to tame. “The shock of your father’s death has been too much for your feminine sensibilities. I should not have assaulted you with the full reality of the situation so soon.”
Stiff and resisting, she suffered his embrace in silence. He had no right to touch her any longer.
“I will give you a fortnight to think it over and make your decision,” he said, stroking her gently on one shoulder. “I could not, with any decency, announce my engagement to Kitty any earlier than that anyway.”
His sudden change from threats to cajoling did not sway her. Her mind was made up. “You have my answer already. The passing of a fortnight will not change it.”
He gave a quiet snigger that made her itch to slap him. “I will presume to hope that it will. You women are such variable creatures, prone to changing your minds on a whim, even when reason and logic have failed to sway you. Who knows what may happen in a fortnight to convince you?”
Leaning over her, he kissed the side of her neck with wet lips. “
Au revoir,
sweet Caroline. I will come to visit you Friday week in the hopes of finding you in a more amenable temper.”
Not a muscle in her body moved as his military boots clattered over the stone flags back to the drawing room. Only when she heard the soft click of the door being latched behind him did she reach up to scrub the sensation of his kiss off her neck with her soiled kidskin gloves.
Her Captain had played her false. He had deserted her. Abandoned her. Now she was truly left without a hope of rescue.
With shaking legs she made her way to the edge of the terrace. She could not stay out here in the garden by herself, giving tacit acknowledgment to the severity of the blow he had just dealt her. Neither could she face returning to the drawing room just yet. Her soul revolted at the need to make polite conversation and pretend that nothing was amiss when her whole world had just shattered around her.
At the edge of the terrace stood a glass conservatory, the leaves of the lush plants inside gleaming eerily in the light of early evening. It beckoned her with the promise of temporary refuge.
Her skirts gathered in her hands, and her back as straight as she could make it, she walked carefully down the stone stairs of the terrace and through a side door into the conservatory.
Inside the misted glass walls the air was so heavy with the scent of hothouse flowers in bloom that she could hardly breathe. Water droplets hung suspended in the air, seeming to weep in company with her.
A wicker settee stood in one lonely corner, shaded with the large leaves of a drooping palm. Without a thought for the care of her sole black dress, she flung herself into it.
This last blow, so cruel and so unexpected, had utterly broken her. There was nothing left to live for, no hope of a better life for any of them.
She could not become the Captain’s mistress, not when she had until so recently expected to become his wife. She would rather go on the streets and make her living on her back, letting strange men have their way with her in the dark night, than sell her body to the Captain for two hundred pounds a year. Nothing, not even the workhouse, could be so utterly demeaning as that.
As she sat there, despairing, it came to her that there was another way out—not just for her, but for all of them. A way out for her sisters and brother as well as herself. A way in which they could all escape, leaving none behind to mourn them.
The same way her father had taken.
If they were all to die, all of them, their troubles would be over and none would be left to carry the burden of grief and shame and loss.
The idea fluttered into her soul on poisoned wings that glittered as brightly as gold.
Her father’s pistol was hidden away in his study on a high shelf. How many bullets remained in its chamber? Enough for her brother, her sisters, and then herself?
Now that the Captain had abandoned her, the six of them had nothing left but their pride, and that would not last long in the workhouse. Would it not be easier for them all if they were to die quickly instead of waiting for starvation and despair to kill them off by degrees? At least that way they would all die together, and none of them would have to suffer the grief of seeing their beloved siblings waste away in front of them.
She could surely harden her heart for long enough to send her brother and sisters to an everlasting sleep, where nothing would ever trouble them again. Life had nothing good to offer them. In death, they would all find peace.
Only a coward would hesitate with such a choice before her, and no one could call her a coward.
Her mind was made up. She would finish what her father had started. After tonight, the Clemens family would be no more.
This very evening, before she lost her nerve, she would do it. While they were sleeping, she would shoot them all, and then she would shoot herself.
Through the black despair that gripped her heart, she hesitated.
She did not want to die. There were so many things she still longed to do, so many things she had never done. She would never visit Paris in the springtime, or picnic in the woods at midnight with her lover. She would never ride in a hot air balloon, flying high above the ground as if she were a bird. She would never see her younger sisters well married or watch her brother Teddy grow to become a man.
But it was too late for her, too late for all of them. Her sisters would never marry and Teddy would be a boy forever. She would die tonight. She would die, and all her family with her.
As she rose from the chair and smoothed her dress, ready to brave the crows and take her last leave of all her friends and acquaintances, one last despairing regret went through her mind.
She would never make love to any man. She would die a virgin.
Dominic Savage leaned against the door frame, watching her.
She was brave, he’d give her that. There were no floods of tears, no hysterics—just that same icy calm demeanor as if nothing on this earth could touch her. He had to admire such self-possession, particularly in such a young woman. For all her self-control, she could not be much more than twenty.
Neither death nor desertion, it seemed, had the power to break her. Her heart was so well-guarded that not even losing her lover could penetrate it.
If she even had a heart.
Not that the Captain was worth crying about. He was clearly a man on the make, and he had a sure eye for the main chance. A poor widow of a bankrupt, even one as intriguing as Caroline Clemens, would never be able to keep the Captain’s self-interested attentions for long.
Still, women were strange creatures and there was no accounting for a woman’s taste in matters of the heart. She had probably fancied herself in love with him. “Being in love” was such a convenient justification for all kinds of selfish and self-indulgent behavior. It was certainly more than enough excuse for a very young woman married to a rather elderly and sober-natured gentleman to take herself a handsome young lover.
What would it take to overcome her defenses, to breach the wall that she had built around herself? What would make her face crumple into tears or her voice cry out in anguish? Neither husband nor lover had made her weep.
A flicker of movement from her still figure caught his attention. Her fists were clenched together so tightly that her knuckles blanched.
Interesting. She felt emotion keenly then, she just did not show it.
As he watched, she rose from the chair, her fists still clenching handfuls of her dress, and moved toward the door that led out into the garden. The soiree, for her at least, was clearly over.
No woman had intrigued him quite as much as Caroline Clemens did. Though she tried to hide her natural sensuality under layers of rigid self-control, every movement she made set his blood rushing into his groin. He wasn’t ready to let her walk out of his life just yet. Moving forward, he blocked her exit. “Has your Captain deserted you already?”
She gave a start at the sound of his voice and turned toward him. “Ah, Mr. Savage. The man who entertains himself by mocking those less fortunate than himself. We meet again.”
Though her speech was steady, the bitterness of her words and the wildness in her eyes startled him. She was far closer to the edge than he had at first thought. “I apologize,” he said with all sincerity. “I did not intend to mock you.”
She lifted one elegant eyebrow. “Indeed.”
He had never met anyone who could do haughty and unconcerned as well as she could, even though her heart must be breaking inside. Try as she might to hide her hurt behind a facade of ice, now that he was close to her he could sense the pain she was concealing. The very air vibrated with it. “The Captain returned to the room some minutes before you did, looking out of humor. I came to search for you, thinking you must have quarreled.”
Her eyebrow rose a fraction higher. “Your kindness to a stranger leaves me speechless.” If her voice got any more tense, it would snap.
“You blame me for being pleased you are now free?” The closer he got to her, the hotter he could feel the fire that ran through her veins. Fire, wild and passionate, not the cold blue ice that she pretended to be.
He wanted her to feel his presence, to be attuned to him as he was to her. “I told you I would be waiting for you when you and the Captain parted company. And here I am, as promised. Just a little earlier than I expected.”
She stiffened even further. “You are mistaken. The Captain and I have not quarreled.”
She was lying. Her whole body, down to the way she carried herself so carefully and the brittle look in her eyes, told him so. He reached out and blotted a drop of water from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Then why do you look as if your whole world had fallen apart?”
She brushed him away with an impatient gesture. “That is not a tear. The air is damp in here from the ferns, that is all. I have not been crying.” Her tone was fierce and brooked no denial.
“Look into my eyes, Caroline.” He held her head gently so she could not avoid his command without twisting free. “You cannot think to lie to me. Not when the tear tracks still silver your cheeks.”
“And what if I have been crying?” she asked, her voice almost savage, unable to look away from him. “Is it a crime? I thought myself alone in here. I
wished
myself to be alone.” Her words were pointed barbs aimed at his breast.
He did not wound so easily. Her feeble weapons glanced off his tough hide and fell away to the ground. “I, too, wished you to be alone in here.”
“So you could break into my solitude?”
“Exactly.” He captured her gaze with his own, using all the force of his personality to hold her to him. “If you had not been alone, I could not have done what I intend to do.”
Her teeth were worrying her bottom lip, but still she did not look away from him. “What are you going to do?”
“I am going to do what I have been thinking of doing ever since I first caught sight of you. I am going to kiss you.”
Her face tinged with pink and he felt her shudder under his hands. “And if I do not want to be kissed?”
“Caroline, Caroline,” he said gravely, shaking his head from side to side in reproof. “Surely you are not thinking of telling me another lie. That would be two lies in…” He drew his fob watch out of his pocket and consulted it with a grave air. “…in just as many minutes. I think it would be better were you to tell me what was really going through your mind at this moment. I think you should tell me the truth.”
The truth? Caroline gave a bitter laugh. If she were to tell him exactly what had been going through her mind before he accosted her, he would draw back from her in horror. She was a murderess, if not yet in deed, then certainly in intention.
Before the night had ended, her brother and sisters would be in Heaven and her body would be lying on the floor with a bullet in her brain.
Mr. Savage might not know it, but if he kissed her tonight, he would be kissing a ghost. In her mind she was already dead.
Even so, she
did
want to be kissed by him. Desperately. All the more desperately because this would be the first and last time she would ever be kissed by a man that she desired.
For she did desire him. There was something about him that attracted her in a way that she did not understand. His eyes spoke of experiences that were not to be had in London, in the world that she knew. His were the mysterious eyes of a man who had learned about love, life, and death in a world far from her own confined sphere.
The knowledge of her certain death hung at her heart, counseling her to make the most of the short time she had left to her. Why should she worry what society might think of her actions? What did she care for the people in the other room so ready to be judge, jury, and executioner? When she had already resolved upon the mortal sins of murder and suicide, it could hardly matter if she were to add an act of simple fornication to her list of sins.
Just ten minutes ago she had been wildly regretting that she would die a virgin.
Now Mr. Savage had interrupted her and announced his intention of kissing her. What else might he be encouraged to do? The conservatory was secluded away from the rest of the house, and even if she were to be caught with him, what did it matter? Her reputation was nothing to her anymore. It would not feed her brother when he was starving or keep her sisters warm when they were shivering with cold at night. She could well risk the loss of her reputation along with her virtue. Neither of them had done her any good till now.
The wildness in her raged to be allowed to live one last time. Really live. With nothing left to lose, she could be a free spirit and choose her own path.
She looked him straight in the eye, meeting his gaze full on. “I
do
want you to kiss me.” The words sounded strange to her ears, but she did not falter. They were so forward, so improper. But they were true. She wanted him to kiss her, and to do so much more.
With a desperation borne of finality she leaned into him and pressed her lips against his. Her course was set. Nothing would sway her from it now.
Dominic felt the pressure of her mouth against his with a surge of self-congratulatory triumph. Ah, he’d known all along she was well worth the pursuing. From the moment he’d first seen her, he’d sensed a reckless passion, a lust for life in her that would not easily be quenched. And now she was kissing him as if she was dying of thirst and he was a drink of cool water.
He liked enthusiasm in a woman. Every woman had breasts to fondle, and legs to wrap around a man’s waist, and a cunt to welcome a man’s cock home. What set one woman’s loving apart from another’s was far more than the firmness or the ripeness of her body—it was the joy she both gave and took from their joining.
Opening her mouth under his, she met his tongue with her own, kissing him fiercely, as if she wanted to devour him. He drank in her passion, welcoming her touch and urging her further down the path of desire. The world around him disappeared into the night—there was only Caroline and her touch and the sweetness of her kisses that existed for him.
Soon enough her kiss failed to satisfy the growing urgency in his loins. He wanted—no, he needed—to get closer to her. He moved his hands from her face and caressed her throat with a delicacy that belied the strength of his fingers, then moved to cradle her breasts. They were delectable, like the rest of her. Even through the layers of her clothing he could feel their round pertness, begging for the touch of a man.
He brushed his fingers over the tips of her breasts, and was rewarded by a gasp of pleasure and a redoubling of the intensity of her kiss. So, the sweet Caroline liked having her breasts fondled. He would remember that the next time he found himself alone in a conservatory with her.
With his thumb and forefinger he massaged her nipples to hardness. To his surprise, she thrust her breasts forward into his hands, offering him no resistance at all.
He mentally revised his plan in accosting her here. At first he’d thought only to ensure that she was not upset by the obvious defection of the Captain her lover, to dry her tears, and to steal a kiss if the occasion offered. Finding her so responsive, however, had put another idea entirely into his mind.
He wondered if she was as warm and wet and willing as she appeared to be. His cock hardened almost painfully at the thought. If his luck was in, he’d get more than a kiss and a grope of her breasts in the darkness. If Caroline continued to prove this willing, he’d have her skirts in the air and be giving her a good hard fucking before the night was out.
She responded to his hands on her breasts with caresses of her own, running her soft fingers down his neck and back, pulling him toward her to tighten their embrace.
His cock, trapped as it was in his trousers, thrust into her stomach. Instead of pushing away such clear evidence of his arousal and of his intentions, her hands moved down his back to cup his buttocks. She drew him closer to her, squirming against the hardness of his cock, making her own wishes plain. She could not have been clearer if she had begged him in words of one syllable to fuck her.
Damn it, the wench was as ready to be taken as any man could want.
Now that he was sure of her, perversely, he did not want to hurry. Fucking her would be a pleasure to be savored and enjoyed slowly, not to be guiltily hurried over for fear of being caught.
Caroline, it seemed, did not share his desire to linger. Her hands moved to his trousers and began to fumble with the buttons. God, but he wanted the touch of her hands on his cock, stroking him and loving him until he thrust into her pussy.
Maybe he did not really want to wait after all. Deftly, he assisted her fumbling hands to release the fastenings of his clothing, allowing his erection to spring free.
Not content with merely freeing his cock, she slid his trousers down over his hips to his ankles and ran her hands over his naked ass, squeezing his buttocks. Her hands were cool on his naked flesh but they left a trail of fire wherever they went.
Seeming to know just what he wanted without a word being spoken, she sank down to her knees in front of him, her eyes on a level with his jutting cock. “It’s purple,” she breathed, touching it reverentially with one finger, her eyes as wide as if she had never seen a naked man before. “And I can feel it pulsing under the skin.”
“Stroke me.”
She did just as he had ordered, stroking him with gentle hands, exploring him with tentative caresses, as if she had never held a man like this in her hands before.
His hands tangled in her hair and he gently guided her mouth to his bobbing erection.
She looked up at him for a moment, astonished, as the purple head of his cock touched her lips. “Kiss me,” he said, his voice thick.
“You want me to kiss you there?” Her voice sounded unsure.
He pushed the tip of his cock into her mouth. “I want you to kiss me and lick me and suck on me. Make me as hard as stone for you.”
Despite her initial hesitation, she caught on quickly, first tentatively kissing, then lightly licking, exploring him with her mouth and tongue as she had earlier explored him with her hands.
Encouraged by his groans of pleasure, her explorations gradually grew bolder as she discovered the secrets to giving him pleasure, cupping his tender sac, stroking the base of his erection and licking him all over, then enveloping him in her mouth, swirling her tongue round the sensitive glans on the underside.
He lifted his shirt to afford a better view of Caroline’s ministrations. Watching her stroke him and suck on him was turning him on nearly as much as the feeling of her eager hands and her soft, wet mouth on him.